As they walked, he tried to map the winding halls, but after traversing levels and following ramped passages, it was impossible. What if they had been lied to and they were taking them down into the depths to sacrifice them to some blood-starved pagan god? In a den of witches, anything could be possible. Get a grip, he snapped, passing a mustached man whose features seemed to grow sharper as they crossed. He had to remember Immanuel was one of them and he couldn’t think of them as the corrupted crones of fairytales. Adam straightened his back and kept his eyes straight ahead. He had to trust Immanuel.
Clearing his throat, he began, “So what do you do for Miss Elliott as her partner? Immanuel says you aren’t— you don’t—”
“I’m not special?” she replied, her full lips curved in amusement.
“You could say that.”
“I do quite a lot actually. I’m a secretary by trade, so I do a lot of secretarial work when we’re not on assignment. With your accounting skills, we could certainly use you here.”
“But what about when you are on assignment? What do you do then besides follow her around?”
Cassandra glanced at him. Something between annoyance and disappointment flashed across her features. “I investigate, just as she does. You don’t need extra-normal abilities to think and observe. Many times we’re even better at it than they are. I don’t know about your Immanuel, but Judith gets so caught up in her abilities or the abilities of others that she can’t see anything else. I have to remind her that not every problem can be solved or created with magic. Practioners alone on assignment can get themselves into a lot of trouble, especially if there are other extra-normal beings around. They can sense them, you know, but you and I pass as normal, boring humans. We are there to investigate, to keep them focused, and do whatever we must to help get the job done.”
“So we’re just glorified policemen?”
“We’re much more than that. We’re actors, sounding boards, errand boys, partners, whatever is necessary.”
“I don’t know if I want such a subordinate position.”
“It’s what you make of it, Mr. Fenice, though I doubt Mr. Winter would think of it that way. I certainly don’t.” Stopping before a bolt-studded iron door, Cassandra rested her hand on its massive ring. “This is where I will leave you. All you have to do for the handfasting is take a bath, change, and say ‘yes’ when the priestess asks. I promise you, it’s easy and painless.”
Adam opened his mouth to speak, his mind stumbling over what she had said. “Is this—? Can two men…?”
“Yes, and for centuries, no one batted an eye. Take solace that for more time than not, no one cared. The Interceptors live by the universe’s rules. Not Her Majesty’s, not the Papacy’s, no one’s but ours.” She glanced toward a door further down the hall before turning back to him. “It seems Mr. Winter is already settled, so I will see you at the ceremony, Mr. Fenice.”
***
Adam drew in a slow, steady breath, the sweet taste of incense on his tongue. In his time with Immanuel, one thing he had mastered was breathing. He had spent so much time reminding his partner that using his lungs would keep him from passing out from panic or pain that he had begun to emulate his techniques. They were oddly effective, especially when standing naked in a strange bath before what felt like an execution. At least they had left him alone to take care of it by himself. Adam's eyes darted around the antechamber, lingering on the immaculate veined marble floor and the matching bare walls. Somehow it didn't feel austere despite the lack of paintings or tapestries. A presence hummed through the space, louder in the silence, though always there beneath the surface at the Interceptor’s headquarters.
Without thinking, he laid his hand on the stone above the sunken pool. Immanuel was nearby. He could feel the resonance of his energy as clearly as he heard his heart beat each night. Adam released a short laugh. He was beginning to sound more and more like him every day. Immanuel. They had only lived together a few months and knew each other nearly a year, yet he had followed him here to get their souls strung together. It sounded like lunacy. He smiled to himself. His entire life had been lived as all or nothing, so why would his relationship with Immanuel be any different? He loved him. He loved him with all his being, and that felt far better than the years of nothing.
Carefully climbing out of the bath, Adam toweled off the dusting of herbs clinging to his skin before turning his attention to the silver tunic hanging near the door. His clothing sat neatly folded on a chair beneath it. He could easily go out in them instead, but was defiance worth it? Slipping on the drab tunic, he was pleased to find that it dusted the floor and covered everything, even if he did look like a dandified friar. As he took a hesitant step forward, Adam wondered if perhaps he should have slipped on his undergarments or stockings beneath it.
Opening the whining door, Adam’s heart shot up his throat. He had expected to find a hall or another antechamber on the other side but instead found a souring chapel lined with stained glass windows. The scenes of knights, gods, and unidentifiable creatures glowed from an unseen source. His mind rushed over what he had seen on the way in, but he couldn’t fathom where a cathedral could fit into the narrow lot. Entering the hall, his steps faltered as all eyes fell upon him. People in brightly colored robes and tunics lined the cathedral in a crowd four people thick except for the path leading to the altar. The occasional symbol was emblazoned over their hearts, and while Adam recognized a few from art or crests, he had no idea of their significance.
“Please, come forth,” an elderly woman called as she stepped to the center of the dais. She was dressed in a pristine white robe, and while she appeared slight, frail even, her light eyes were keen and quick beneath her spectacles and her voice rang clearly through the chamber.
Adam’s heart thundered in his chest as he took a hesitant step forward. The silence combined with the crowd and the dizzying pulse of energy emanating from every surface, hit him as an overwhelming sense of dread. As he grew closer to the dais, he could make out two younger women in purple on either side of the witch holding multicolored ropes that resembled drapery cords. He swallowed hard, speculating what purpose they might serve, but before he could form a guess, the breath caught in his throat as Immanuel locked eyes with him from across the platform. Immanuel’s wide mismatched eyes flickered with the feverish glint of fear, but it quickly disappeared behind a warm smile. When they reached the stone altar together, the priestess’s gaze traveled between them. Adam wanted to run. He wanted to disappear to avoid having a thousand eyes upon them, a thousand eyes knowing their secret, but Immanuel’s resolute features held him in place.
The priestess cleared her throat. “Today we will be joining the energy and spirits of these two men through a fasting. May we welcome Immanuel Winter and Adam Fenice to Her Majesty’s Interceptors. Before we begin, we shall call upon the four elements to bless this union of spirits.”
From one of the women’s hands, the priestess received a wand tipped in crustal. The crone stepped closer, her mouth working in a lilting chant as she drew a circle around their feet in one smooth sweep. As the circle closed around them, a hum echoed through the soles of Adam’s feet. It was that same feeling he felt when Immanuel traced a sigil of protection over his heart: something between a palpitation and the visceral resonance of an incoming metro train.
“Today we call upon the cardinal elements and their wisdom of creation to bless Immanuel Winter and Adam Fenice. May these blessings bring success and strengthen your ties. Please join hands.”
Adam resisted the urge to dig at his sore wrist. His eyes darted to the waiting crowd before rising to Immanuel’s face. With a faint nod, Immanuel grasped Adam’s hand, holding it without hesitation. Closing her eyes, the priestess whispered words in a contorted language Adam could not understand. The women on either side of her parted their lips and their voices harmonized into a siren’s call. The air around them distorted until the crowd fell dark and the light from the high wind
ows turned upon the five figures on the dais. Their voices reached a crescendo at the same time as the priestess held an ancient word. Immanuel’s eyes widened as a patter of rain washed over them.
“To water, Lady of the West, we call upon you to bathe them in joy and wash away their sorrows.
“To fire, Gentleman of the South,” she said as the water dispersed as steam over Adam and Immanuel’s locked hands, “we call upon you to warm their souls and light their way in the darkness, even when all seems lost.”
Murmurs fluttered through the crowd as a breeze stirred Immanuel’s curls. The witch paused but quickly recovered as she continued, “Air, Mistress of the East, we call upon you for your gifts of purity and renewal. May the dust of the past be blown away.”
Adam tightened his grip on Immanuel, knowing what would come next. The moment the word left the woman’s lips, the ground trembled beneath their feet, nearly casting Immanuel into Adam’s arms. The priestesses’ harmony faltered.
“Earth, Master of the North, may you sustain them and enrich their lives. May you help to build them a stable home to which they will return.”
Adam released a tense breath as the energy ebbed, pulled back like the tide. Shifting under the hundreds of eyes watching them in confusion and scrutiny while others merely stared in impassive curiosity, Adam tightened his grip on Immanuel’s hand.
“Now, look at your partner.”
Standing straighter, Adam stared into Immanuel’s eyes. He tried to focus his gaze on the copper coin that bloomed in his left iris, but every nerve in his body cried for him to look away, even if those eyes bewitched him wholly. Not in front of these people, his mind screamed. The intimacy of a prolonged gaze could seal their doom, yet Immanuel stood there smiling tenderly at him, unafraid and unrepentant. Adam’s stomach twisted at the curves of his lips and the softness in his eyes even after all he had been through. He loved him.
“Do you swear to respect your partner and never break that bond of trust?”
“Yes,” they said in barely more than a whisper.
One of the women stepped forward and wrapped a blue cord around their hands.
“And so you are bound.”
A twang of energy rang through their hands and into their bodies, following their blood until with a heartbeat, it dispersed. For a sharing of pain, a red cord was added, followed by a yellow for burdens, and finally a green for life, and with each, the burn in their veins intensified. The cloaked woman stepped forward once more and carefully tied the four cords together until neither man could move his palm apart. Energy hummed between them, and as Adam locked eyes with Immanuel, he could make out a faint glow trailing from his lover’s body to his own.
“As your hands are bound, so are your souls in trust and power. May the stars lift you and the earth ground you.”
Behind them, the crowd of Interceptors blurred, and the force of hundreds of practioners acknowledging their union with their power hit them. Adam’s eyes burned with the flood of energy forcing its way through his form. His head swam at its magnitude and the indiscernible emotions traveling within it. Love, fear, awe. He turned his gaze from Immanuel in time to see the priestess step back to allow them to come closer. With their bound hand, Immanuel pulled Adam to his chest and held him tight with the other. His free hand cradled his neck and hugged his shoulder, even as he buried his face against it. Adam’s mind faltered. He should shove him away or flee, but his body betrayed him, pulling Immanuel to him as best he could. Tears scalded his lids at the alien relief of holding Immanuel in public and not having to fear a beating or trip to the gaol.
Stepping back, Adam smoothed his robe and smothered the emotion from his features. The crowd slowly dispersed, leaving only small clumps of people at the periphery of the room. An occasional eye would stray upon them as they passed. Their probing, wary gazes were followed by whispered replies. Adam had heard their gasps during the handfasting and wished he understood what had shocked them, but with the remnants of euphoric power coursing through him, he didn’t care. As they stepped off the dais, Immanuel gradually released his hand until all that held them together were the four ropes. Adam spied Judith and Cassandra over his shoulder as they cut through the remaining practioners.
“Mr. Fenice, Mr. Winter,” Cassandra began as she and Judith stood shoulder to shoulder, “congratulations on taking your first step into the Interceptors. I’m so glad the ceremony worked for you. It doesn’t always.”
“And I was right about the dual alignment, wasn’t I?” Judith replied, nudging a tutting Cassandra with her elbow. “Too bad we weren’t taking bets; it isn’t something we see very often. Now, I hate to cut the celebration short, but things have developed quicker than I anticipated and I must speak with you in private. Get dressed, and Cassandra will lead you back to my office.”
Chapter Eight
The Exception
By the time Immanuel emerged from the marble bath, his hair had dried into horned curls at his temples and his clothing looked as if he had slept in it. A moment later Adam stepped out of the next door looking as neat and put together as when they arrived. As he drew closer, the fresh bond pulsed along Immanuel’s skin until it drew into a fine thread and leapt across the gap to Adam. If he focused on it, he could feel it thicken and narrow with each step they took behind Miss Ashwood. Reaching Judith’s office, they found her perusing a lengthy missive. Adam and Immanuel exchanged glances as they waited by the door. Finally, she put the parchment aside and motioned for them to take a seat.
“My apologies for rushing you, but this news has to do with your case. Since the hierophant apparently agreed to your terms, you will be sent to the Seolh-wiga Island to look for the selkie’s killer. You will have exactly a week before we send another team out to finish the job. Our source at the landing fields confirmed that’s where the specimen originated, which lines up with past selkie sightings. In this envelope, you will find train tickets to get to Scarborough along with tickets for the ferry to take you out to the island. We have also included our usual rate for a week’s work and unseen expenditures. If you need any more money or want to back out early, you can send us a telegraph. The information for how to do that is in there as well. We have a contact who will meet you at the dock to get you settled.”
Immanuel stared down at the packet, eyeing the strange purple seal he had seen on the previous letter. “I know I asked to follow-up on the selkie’s murder, but if there is already someone on the island who can look into it, I don’t want to cause any added expense or step on anyone’s toes.”
“Oh, he isn’t an Interceptor. He is from the Special Branch of the Metropolitan Police. I’m not privy to what he was investigating, but the name I have been given is Will Jacobs. He offered to share his lodgings with you and assist you should the need arise.”
When Adam and Immanuel regarded her warily, she straightened and added, “I wouldn’t worry about him. Keep to yourselves, and you won’t have a problem. We often share safe houses with the Metropolitan Police, but I wouldn’t necessarily share my life story with him or the specifics of the case.”
“But how did you know we would join?”
“I didn’t. We have had ongoing contact with Mr. Jacobs for a fortnight, and his offer was open to whomever we sent. Your names will be telegraphed to him as soon as you leave.”
Taking the packet from Immanuel’s hands, Adam tore the seal and studied the train tickets inside. A crease formed between his henna brows as he asked, “These tickets are for tomorrow morning. Isn’t that short notice?”
“What?” Immanuel cried, snatching the tickets from his hand. “I have work! I need more time to figure out what to say to Sir William. He’ll— he’ll sack me without a reference if I just disappear. And if I don’t do this, I—”
Immanuel’s mind spun through the hundreds of ways this could all go wrong. He could be giving up everything for nothing. His hands shook as he reached to push a stray hair hanging in his face. He opened his mouth,
but before he could speak, Adam laid his hand on his arm and leaned forward.
“What do you suggest he do, Miss Elliott? Mr. Nichols apparently is able to get away with duping his employer. I’m certain you know a way it can be done on short notice.”
“It’s very simple: lie. And make it a convincing one. You could claim to be deathly ill or have a family member who needs tending to.”
Lie. Immanuel stared down at his feet. Hadn’t he done enough of that lately? Besides, he had been laying the groundwork for a different story. The pelt was supposed to have come from an undiscovered species of seal, and he would have to go to look for them, hopefully with the museum’s blessing and at their expense. That wouldn’t work now. Chewing his lip, Immanuel swallowed hard.
“Once we’re there, what are we supposed to do?”
“There are several objectives. First figure out if the selkies are still nearby. We doubt they will interact with you, but perhaps you can find them amongst the other seals. More importantly, find the person who you believe killed the selkie. Listen for any rumors of conflicts between them and the locals, and report back. There is a telegraph on the island at your disposal. Remember, you are purely there to observe, investigate, and report back. You will not confront or arrest anyone. If you know who it is, Mr. Jacobs will assist you in that regard. Do you understand? You are to apply your knowledge and that is it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Immanuel replied quietly. After what happened that summer, he couldn’t blame them. The Interceptors had considered it a victory, but it had cost Lord Hale his life when he could have been spared had Immanuel not interfered.
“So what are the rules?” Adam asked, his arms folded across his chest. With his jaw set and his head high, he seemed as haughty as one would expect a dandy. “There have to be rules for magic. There always are, and if I’m supposed to trail around and keep tabs on him, I would like to know what they are. Or is that perhaps how your hierophant plans to keep him out?”
Selkie Cove (The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Book 5) Page 8
